For Good
by Stephane Richer
Summary: And now whatever way our stories end, I know you have rewritten mine by being my friend.


For Good

Disclaimer: I don't own the song "For Good" from the musical _Wicked_ or the manga _Ouran High School Host Club_ by Bisco Hatori.

* * *

"I never expected it to be this long."

"What, my dick?"

Kyoya rolled his eyes, playfully smacking Tamaki on the shoulder. "No, idiot. We've both stuck around for, what, eight years now?"

Tamaki raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, it's like...a long time."

"Profound."

The sky was streaked with red and blue, but even the larger buildings couldn't hide the sun, and Kyoya was really regretting leaving his sunglasses on his desk. A hand would have to do for now. They walked along the river in comfortable relative silence, flip-flops smacking the pavement. It was finally warm enough for summer clothes on a (semi-) regular basis, not that it mattered. They would be leaving soon.

"I thought I'd just get in your good graces and my dad would find me someone else to kiss up to soon enough, and it would be over in a few months, probably less."

"Kyoya, you severely underestimated me."

He sighed. "I know, I know."

"It's not like you to be so sentimental."

Kyoya shrugged. "We are graduating next week. You're staying here for Haruhi, naturally, and I will be shoved into some titular position in Tokyo."

"I'll come back. I can't not."

"I know, but..."

Tamaki stopped and looked out over the river. "Yeah. It won't be the same. I'll get saddled with my official responsibilities as heir to the company, and what little free time I have will be most likely spent with my family."

It seemed so inconsequential, really. There would be a big ceremony for the whole class with lots of pomp and exaggeration and many speeches, but it would be devoid of real, personal meaning. Just like that, he'd close the book on his three years in Boston and head back home, and just like that he'd be the third Ohtori boy again. And he'd call and text Tamaki (more likely Tamaki would initiate contact) but it still wouldn't be the same. Their lives would diverge. It was only natural. A rich wife would be chosen from a proper family, and Kyoya would dutifully marry her. They would have children. At some point his father might allow him to attend medical school. But still, Kyoya's life was dictated, and even though it had been temporarily derailed by Tamaki and his crazy host club, it would be set straight again, back to destiny.

Actually, being here in Boston with the Host Club had strangely allowed him to make peace with the idea. Thousands of miles away from his father, from the Ohtori Group, Kyoya was a nobody. People cared about networking, but it was all quantitative - shake hands with as many people as you can, remember their names and affiliations and call in those bonds when necessary. Here, Kyoya Ohtori was just as good as Mike Johnson, or Lisa Rodriguez, or Diane George - or Tamaki Suoh. He was finally free, in the state of existence he'd dreamed about since before he could remember. And, of course, it failed to meet expectations. How could it live up to such a long-lived fantasy? He'd felt liberation from his old life, and while it was different and special, it was not shackles that awaited him. It was just a different set of expectations, and more responsibility, which he could undoubtedly handle.

Dreams could be chased, but like butterflies they often hovered out of reach and moved in unpredictable loops. Perhaps the company would not be handed to him but he could fight tooth-and-nail for actual responsibility in the company, take on more than he could handle and still manage to come out on top - because that was who he was.

"Maybe we're the sine and cosine curve," Tamaki said, still staring out at the flowing water.

"What, two-dimensional?"

This time it was Tamaki's turn to punch him. "No, our paths go apart and come together, again and again, until infinity."

"That's a nice thought," Kyoya allowed.

"But you don't believe it?"

He sighed. "I just don't know." He grinned. "And besides, you're anything but regular. I'm the cosine curve; you're some random numbers and variables someone punched into the calculator for fun."

"Hey!" Tamaki pouted. "That's not very nice."

"I never said it was a bad thing, did I?"

"No, but you meant it that way."

Silence. A trio of girls in a rowboat glided slowly over to the boathouse across the river, got out, and fastened the boat in place. The sky was growing darker. Cars whizzed by, not stopping even for red lights.

"Tamaki?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

The wind blew Kyoya's hair into his eyes and tangled it into his glasses. Shit. It really was getting too long. A haircut would have to wait, though.

It wasn't as if their trajectories could be the same, or even similar. Neither of them would really want it to be that way. As much as they admired and envied one another, they both recognized and respected the difficulties in being that person.

Tamaki picked up a stone lying on the somewhat-artificial riverbank and skipped it across the water until it sank below. A pair of ducks swam by, ignoring the two young men. Time ticked away, the way it always had on a certain pink clock. With each and every passing second, more distance appeared between them, inevitable, isolating.

They slowly walked back to their apartment, as the sun disappeared and the stars, much more visible here than in Tokyo, appeared. To count them would be impossible, but Kyoya knew Tamaki was doing it. He knew the other's unsteady pace, the way he would stop and gaze in wonder at every rabbit in the bushes. Perhaps he would never know someone this well again.


End file.
